And now his last name is Hot Toddy Chaser.

Aw poor girl.

If you hold your ear up to Alberta you can hear a lot of bad language right now. Thankfully our haying’s all done. It is supposed to hit plus twenty this week and it’s sure looking like that might be the last chance local growers get to take their crops off. Our resident industrial mechanic has been off shoulder deep in combine guts all weekend so it’s been quiet around the house.

Well, as it gets.

I can’t spend a lot of the day sitting down anyway. Our rooster is sneezing and while it sounds absolutely adorable – think four year old pretending to have a ray gun: “pew pew!” – I do not want my rooster sick. Or getting my chickens sick. I served him up some hot oatmeal and now I’m going to go rooting through the vet supplies and see what we’ve got on hand, but it hasn’t shut him up any and his crow is as clear as ever so I’m just watchful eye for now.

Then maybe I can play with my blocky little bubbles for awhile.

crude and shiny like I like it


I’m like aw c’mon guys but you know what?

Probably wouldn’t have seen it alive if they hadn’t cleared out all the dead stuff. Totally forgot I stuck that extra seed in there.

Kinda like back in July when I went to bring the llama water and found this:

Screaming, dehydrated, hungry as hell and bizarrely alone in the middle of our bullpen, which very thankfully was not occupied by our bull at the time.

Best guess is Diggity was the three week old kitten of the cat that had disappeared from a neighbouring property six weeks previously. But who the hell knows. Weird things happen on the farm.

Kinda like when my cat Andy snuck outside for an adventure and this shot out of the grape plant when I called “here kitty kitty” last year around this time.

How or why she wound up here no idea, but once she got here the resident farm cat made eradicating her a top priority, so Ning decided she’d explore the option of late kitten-hood adoption and gave me her frantic elevator pitch.  She at least we know absolutely is the progeny of the aforementioned neighbouring cat, so it’s likely we’ve got a pair of sisters on our hands.

My life would be a lot easier if I were a less easy mark for fuzzy things with big eyes.


Baby Diggity


Baby Ning

Damn them.

Pictured: miscreants